


Drift

by BryonNightshade



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen, Ozpin talks to Oscar, Soon to be obsolete, friendship of a sort, getting to know each other again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27093721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BryonNightshade/pseuds/BryonNightshade
Summary: As he takes a breather beneath Atlas, Oscar has some questions for Oz-- about how Oz became who he is, and what he may yet become.
Relationships: Ozpin & Oscar Pine
Comments: 1
Kudos: 50





	Drift

"How much time do we have, do you think?" Oscar asked, looking out the window at the unnatural storm on the horizon.

_More than you might expect,_ answered the voice in his head. He'd called the voice Ozpin, and knew he might have semi-correctly called it Ozma, but he decided he was going to call it Oz. Simpler. _I'm familiar with Salem's style. She knows the power of anticipation. She'll let the fear crescendo before she strikes._

"That's encouraging," Oscar said, leaning back against the wall of the abandoned house. "It gives us a moment to catch our breath."

_Indeed. I always treasure these moments—the last bits of calm before the storm._

Oscar blinked rapidly. " _This_ is calm? This is _calm_?"

_Well, compared to what's about to happen, yes. There won't be time for introspection later. A shame, really. Let's enjoy it while we can._

Oscar admitted that the soul sharing his body had a point. No one was trying to kill him right now, which was an improvement over the previous few hours. He let himself slide to the floor. The abandoned building below Atlas wasn't comfortable, and it offered only modest protection. Still, it kept him safe from the elements. He needed time to build up enough aura to operate in the cold. His reserves had been drained almost dry when Ironwood…

He winced in pain.

He really didn't want to think about it.

_Yes,_ **_that_** _bit of introspection can wait._

Oscar chuckled. "That's something we fully agree on. Which reminds me… there's something I've been meaning to ask you. I've been trying to figure you out, and every time I learn something new, it gets more confusing."

_I fully appreciate how that works._

Oscar didn't pause at the feeling of regret that accompanied Oz's message. "You were originally the great warrior Ozma, right? A man of action. A fighter. Someone who heard of a captive princess and stormed the castle single-handedly."

… _more or less. That was a long time ago._

"But the Oz you are now," Oscar plowed on, "likes quiet contemplation, and patience, and pretty things, and coffee. I can't ever see Ozma drinking coffee."

_You're not wrong._

"I don't get it." Out of a lack of things to do, he grasped the hilt of the Long Memory and brought the cane's handle before his eyes. "I have a hard time seeing you as him. What happened?"

There was an extended pause. From outside, the wind howled, and the windows rattled. Oscar was glad he wasn't out there, glad there had been a few blankets here still. He didn't relish the idea of going back into the cold to stare down the apocalypse, all by himself.

Or was it "hisselves"? Remnant's languages broke when they tried to describe Oz.

_People change. You know that. Why, you've seen it._

That was true. From Ruby stepping up as the leader of their little mission to Qrow's valiant, doomed battle with alcoholism, his friends had changed before his eyes. "So that's it? You just… what, grew out of being Ozma?"

_Partially. It's a bit more complicated with me._

Oscar huffed a breath that was almost a chuckle. "It always is."

Oz didn't say his agreement, but Oscar felt it. _'Reincarnation' is the wrong word to describe what happens to me. It's close, but not correct. The presence of the second soul means that some drift occurs._

"Drift?" Oscar repeated.

_How did you describe Ozma? 'A mighty warrior. A man of action. Someone who heard of a captive princess and stormed the castle single-handedly.' Is that you?_

Oscar shook his head. "Not even close."

_You're overstating things. Are you trying to tell me you won't be leaving this house as soon as you have enough aura for it, and start working on how to connect with Ruby to fight against all… that?_

It made Oscar swallow, hearing someone else say it. "That was my plan."

_And I admire you greatly for it. In that case, you are similar to Ozma in some important ways, without being the same. Just as I was, and am, and will be. That's how it is._

"Still not getting it," said Oscar lightly.

He almost heard the laugh. _That was a very Ruby Rose-ish affectation, you know._

"I suppose she's rubbing off on… me?"

_You're starting to get it. Pull that thread._

Oscar frowned as he pondered it.

_No two souls are the same, Oscar. Yours is wholly unique. There will never be one quite like yours. A shame—the world could use people more like you—but that's life._

"Stop flattering me."

_If you insist. But I mention this for a reason. Hm… how much math do you know?_

"Uh…" Oscar was surprised by the apparent change of topic. "A little. I can do fractions just fine, and percentages. A little algebra, I think?"

_Yes, that makes sense. Enough for a farmhand, but less than you would have received at a combat school._

"They teach math at combat schools?"

_Math underpins almost every part of a Huntsman's trade. It's a vital… My word, listen to me. Much as I would love to talk curriculum development with you, it's not important for now. Although this would be easier if I could describe it in standard deviation terms… Okay, pick a number between ten and twenty._

Oscar smiled. "You're doing the thing again," he said. "You're leading me on this winding road where I can't ever see the next step."

_A number, please. I promise we'll get to the point in time._

"I've heard that before… fifteen."

_Fifteen. Now pick a number between ten and twenty._

"Fifteen."

… _pick a_ _different_ _number between ten and twenty._

Grinning, feeling like he'd scored a point, Oscar said, "Eleven."

_That's better. Now, pick a number between eight and eighteen._

Oscar blinked, intrigued. "Eleven."

_Seven and seventeen._

"Eleven."

_Six and sixteen._

"Fifteen."

_Eight and eighteen._

Oscar's eyes popped open. "My choice changes the range of options. I can steer it up and down."

_Precisely._

"But not all the way in one go," Oscar went on. "The range re-centers on something… in between."

_Applause. Well… my soul works the same way._

Oscar's face scrunched up as he concentrated on untangling the words. "Huh?"

_No two souls are exactly alike. Each person I join with is a kindred soul to mine, but it's not the same as mine. Those differences change me. The fusion works both ways. I change some with every life I touch. And every time I change, the definition of 'kindred soul' changes with me._

_Sometimes the changes are dramatic. I only picked up coffee three incarnations ago, though in retrospect I wish I had come to that calling earlier. It was eleven incarnations ago that I stopped flirting with mathematics and developed a more intimate relationship with the subject. But on most things, the changes are gradual, and subtle, even if the end result is substantial._

_It took quite a bit of drift to get from Ozma to you, Oscar._

"You don't need to tell me that," said Oscar, flushing. "I'm no legendary hero."

_That wasn't meant as an insult. You're better than I was in my earlier lives. You'd never agree to a plot to conquer the world, for starters._

"Are you saying you wouldn't, now?"

_No. I drifted away from that long ago._

"That's reassuring. I wouldn't have been up for that anyway." Oscar sighed. "So… even after I'm gone, there'll still be some piece of me alive in you, then."

_You will change me, yes. I can say that with certainty. You already have._

"Pardon?"

_There are two ways I can change, remember? Soul-to-soul contact is only one of them. The other is the mundane way available to everyone. I learn from those around me, just like any human. In my case, I've learned from you._

Oscar had to laugh at that. "I don't know what you could possibly have learned from me."

_Ozma would not have offered James a way out. He would not have tried to save James' soul._

Oscar's good humor died as quickly as it had come. His ribs twinged as he thought back. "And look where that got us, huh?"

_It was still an admirable thing to do. I couldn't have done it. Ozma wouldn't have thought to do it. You were better than any of us._

Admirable. Better than any of us. Warmth spread through Oscar that had nothing to do with his regenerating aura.

_Although… having an exit plan in mind_ _before_ _confronting James might have been prudent._

It wasn't a criticism, and Oscar knew it; he laughed. "Something to remember for next time. And, thanks to you, there might even be a next time."

_You did the hard part._

Oscar smiled. "As angry as I was with you, Oz, as complicated as you've made my life, as hard as it is to have you around… I'm glad you're with me now."

Oz made no attempt to reply, but Oscar was alright with that. He flexed his fingers; they ached but responded. He staggered to his feet. The cold was not so piercing anymore, a sure sign that he was recovering. He reached for his scroll to check his levels manually—ah, but it was locked, of course. Another gift turned to a curse.

_We're out of the red, but just barely. It's enough to leave here and get help. We shouldn't be charging into battle in this state._

"Never considered it. Step one was always going to be find Ruby."

He felt Oz's affection. _She is remarkable, isn't she?_

Oscar laughed. "On that subject, we haven't drifted at all."


End file.
